The Conscience Case of David Bell

"The Conscience Case of David Bell" is a thought-provoking novella by Lucy Maud Montgomery that explores themes of morality, personal conviction, and the complexities of human nature. The story follows David Bell, a young man who is faced with a moral dilemma that tests his integrity and beliefs. As he grapples with societal pressures and his own conscience, the narrative delves into the importance of standing up for one’s principles, the weight of responsibility, and the impact of choices on both the individual and the community. Montgomery's signature lyrical prose brings to life the emotional struggles of the characters, making this short work a poignant reflection on the nature of conscience and ethical decision-making.

• Short story

								
Eben Bell came in with an armful of wood and banged it cheerfully
down in the box behind the glowing Waterloo stove, which was
coloring the heart of the little kitchen's gloom with tremulous,
rose-red whirls of light.

"There, sis, that's the last chore on my list.  Bob's milking.
Nothing more for me to do but put on my white collar for meeting.
Avonlea is more than lively since the evangelist came, ain't it,
though!"

Mollie Bell nodded. She was curling her hair before the tiny
mirror that hung on the whitewashed wall and distorted her round,
pink-and-white face into a grotesque caricature.

"Wonder who'll stand up to-night," said Eben reflectively,
sitting down on the edge of the wood-box.  "There ain't many
sinners left in Avonlea--only a few hardened chaps like myself."

"You shouldn't talk like that," said Mollie rebukingly.  "What if
father heard you?"

"Father wouldn't hear me if I shouted it in his ear," returned
Eben.  "He goes around, these days, like a man in a dream and a
mighty bad dream at that.  Father has always been a good man.
What's the matter with him?"

"I don't know," said Mollie, dropping her voice.  "Mother is
dreadfully worried over him.  And everybody is talking, Eb.  It
just makes me squirm.  Flora Jane Fletcher asked me last night
why father never testified, and him one of the elders.  She said
the minister was perplexed about it.  I felt my face getting
red."

"Why didn't you tell her it was no business of hers?" said Eben
angrily.  "Old Flora Jane had better mind her own business."

"But all the folks are talking about it, Eb.  And mother is
fretting her heart out over it.  Father has never acted like
himself since these meetings began.  He just goes there night
after night, and sits like a mummy, with his head down.  And
almost everybody else in Avonlea has testified."

"Oh, no, there's lots haven't," said Eben.  "Matthew Cuthbert
never has, nor Uncle Elisha, nor any of the Whites."

"But everybody knows they don't believe in getting up and
testifying, so nobody wonders when they don't.  Besides," Mollie
laughed--"Matthew could never get a word out in public, if he did
believe in it.  He'd be too shy.  But," she added with a sigh,
"it isn't that way with father.  He believes in testimony, so
people wonder why he doesn't get up.  Why, even old Josiah Sloane
gets up every night."

"With his whiskers sticking out every which way, and his hair
ditto," interjected the graceless Eben.

"When the minister calls for testimonials and all the folks look
at our pew, I feel ready to sink through the floor for shame,"
sighed Mollie.  "If father would get up just once!"

Miriam Bell entered the kitchen.  She was ready for the meeting,
to which Major Spencer was to take her.  She was a tall, pale
girl, with a serious face, and dark, thoughtful eyes, totally
unlike Mollie.  She had "come under conviction" during the
meetings, and had stood up for prayer and testimony several
times.  The evangelist thought her very spiritual.  She heard
Mollie's concluding sentence and spoke reprovingly.

"You shouldn't criticize your father, Mollie.  It isn't for you
to judge him."

Eben had hastily slipped out.  He was afraid Miriam would begin
talking religion to him if he stayed.  He had with difficulty
escaped from an exhortation by Robert in the cow-stable.  There
was no peace in Avonlea for the unregenerate, he reflected.
Robert and Miriam had both "come out," and Mollie was hovering on
the brink.

"Dad and I are the black sheep of the family," he said, with a
laugh, for which he at once felt guilty.  Eben had been brought
up with a strict reverence for all religious matters.  On the
surface he might sometimes laugh at them, but the deeps troubled
him whenever he did so.

Indoors, Miriam touched her younger sister's shoulder and looked
at her affectionately.

"Won't you decide to-night, Mollie?" she asked, in a voice
tremulous with emotion.

Mollie crimsoned and turned her face away uncomfortably.  She did
not know what answer to make, and was glad that a jingle of bells
outside saved her the necessity of replying.

"There's your beau, Miriam," she said, as she darted into the
sitting room.

Soon after, Eben brought the family pung and his chubby red mare
to the door for Mollie.  He had not as yet attained to the
dignity of a cutter of his own.  That was for his elder brother,
Robert, who presently came out in his new fur coat and drove
dashingly away with bells and glitter.

"Thinks he's the people," remarked Eben, with a fraternal grin.

The rich winter twilight was purpling over the white world as
they drove down the lane under the over-arching wild cherry trees
that glittered with gemmy hoar-frost.  The snow creaked and
crisped under the runners.  A shrill wind was keening in the
leafless dogwoods.  Over the trees the sky was a dome of silver,
with a lucent star or two on the slope of the west.  Earth-stars
gleamed warmly out here and there, where homesteads were tucked
snugly away in their orchards or groves of birch.

"The church will be jammed to-night," said Eben.  "It's so fine
that folks will come from near and far.  Guess it'll be
exciting."

"If only father would testify!" sighed Mollie, from the bottom of
the pung, where she was snuggled amid furs and straw.  "Miriam
can say what she likes, but I do feel as if we were all
disgraced.  It sends a creep all over me to hear Mr. Bentley say,
'Now, isn't there one more to say a word for Jesus?' and look
right over at father."

Eben flicked his mare with his whip, and she broke into a trot.
The silence was filled with a faint, fairy-like melody from afar
down the road where a pungful of young folks from White Sands
were singing hymns on their way to meeting.

"Look here, Mollie," said Eben awkwardly at last, "are you going
to stand up for prayers to-night?"

"I--I can't as long as father acts this way," answered Mollie, in
a choked voice.  "I--I want to, Eb, and Mirry and Bob want me to,
but I can't.  I do hope that the evangelist won't come and talk
to me special to-night.  I always feels as if I was being pulled
two different ways, when he does."

Back in the kitchen at home Mrs. Bell was waiting for her husband
to bring the horse to the door.  She was a slight, dark-eyed
little woman, with thin, vivid-red cheeks.  From out of the
swathings in which she had wrapped her bonnet, her face gleamed
sad and troubled.  Now and then she sighed heavily.

The cat came to her from under the stove, languidly stretching
himself, and yawning until all the red cavern of his mouth and
throat was revealed.  At the moment he had an uncanny resemblance
to Elder Joseph Blewett of White Sands--Roaring Joe, the

								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes